


Snark and Ginger

by Rochelle_Templer



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Angst, Expanded Scenes, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Introspection, Missing Scenes, bits in between episodes, episode tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-05 09:24:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12791580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rochelle_Templer/pseuds/Rochelle_Templer
Summary: A series of one-shots, short stories and ficlets centered around Vislor Turlough: coward and hero, selfish and loyal, tireless sarcasm machine and Trion with a heart of gold.





	1. Sighting the Target

**Author's Note:**

> This will be an open-ended fic where I write either in response to TV episodes/short stories/books/Big Finish audios or as original short fic (one or two parters). Basically, I'll add chapters as they occur to me. 
> 
> This chapter takes place during the first episode of "Mawdryn Undead".

For the most part, Turlough was surprised at how easy it had been so far.

Although he could tell that this “Guardian” had vast powers, Turlough hadn’t been sure how he would get back home without involving the Trions who had exiled him on Earth. However, after being led to the transmat capsule and given what he needed to operate it, he wondered why he had been so worried. The ship he had landed on was more than sufficient to get him home.

He thought about heading for Trion then and there, but then the Guardian appeared and reminded him of their agreement. No, he would have to wait for now. It would give him time to better acquaint himself with the controls.

And time to fulfill his end of their bargain.

Turlough wandered around the ship until he found a battered police box in a corner of the ship which the Guardian had told him was the Doctor’s ship. It was absurd to disguise a spacetime craft as a relic from Earth. But perhaps it was a way to fob off curious Earthlings. Sensible, really. Earthlings did have an annoying tendency to stick their noses into everything.

Although why the Doctor continued to keep it in this ridiculous disguise while out in space was a mystery to Turlough.

Turlough shook his head and took a deep breath as he approached the blue box. There was no point in trying to fathom the Doctor’s motives. The Doctor was an evil creature who needed to be destroyed. At least, that was what he had been told. Truthfully, Turlough had questions about why the Guardian wanted him to be the one to destroy the Doctor, but they were easy to dismiss. Perhaps the Guardian wanted to avoid the Doctor’s wrath and take advantage of the element of surprise. Or perhaps he did not want to upset any allies the Doctor may have.

Those thoughts did make Turlough more than a little worried about what might happen to him whether he succeeded in killing the Doctor or not. Then again, he figured he could still maneuver around whatever might happen. If he was successful, then the Guardian could help him sneak back home before anyone could find him. If he wasn’t…he could always offer the Doctor the name of the person who hired him in the first place as a way to curb any possible retribution for his actions.

Turlough slipped inside, blinking in surprise at what he saw. The dimensions inside were much larger than he had expected. Perhaps this was also part of the camouflage of the ship.

Instead of dwelling on that thought, he headed straight for the console in the center of the room. He was able to discern some of the basic functions of the controls, but could also see that this technology was far beyond anything that had existed on Trion. Still, with some time and a little instruction, he was confident that he could work them well enough to get to where he wanted to go.

Turlough was so caught up in his study of the controls, he barely noticed a figure dashing into the room and skidding over to the controls across from him. It had to be the Doctor. The assured way this person was manipulating the buttons at his fingertips told him that.

For a moment, Turlough hesitated. This was the person he had been assigned to kill. This was the most malevolent force in the universe. And it was this person’s death that would give him his freedom.

He took another deep breath and slowly lifted his head. Turlough had seen evil before. On the battlefields of Trion, in the faces of soldiers who fought and killed not for a cause, but for the thrill of it. At the school he was now forced to attend, on the faces of boys who were well on their way toward a life spent scheming and preying on others. He might have even seen a glint of it start to form in his own eyes, but Turlough tried to avoid thinking about that as much as possible.

Drawing from that experience, he steeled himself to face the Doctor…and was even more surprised than when he walked into that police box.

_‘Is that…a cricketer’s uniform? Yes…yes, it’s older…like something I’d seen in a history book…but that must be what it is. And why is he wearing celery on his lapel?’_

Turlough had to struggle to keep his mouth from falling open. While the unconventional attire the man in front of him had on was a shock, it was the Doctor’s eyes that truly caught Turlough’s attention. They were blue, like his, albeit much darker. And where he had expected anger, annoyance or suspicion, there was only….curiosity.

“Who are you?” a calm inquisitive voice asked him.

Turlough blinked again. British, from the sound of it and with a quiet, questioning tone that was a perfect match for the look in his eyes.

Turlough was dumbfounded. The Doctor was supposed to be this terrible, destructive entity. But that’s not what Turlough saw in front of him. No, this was just a harmless eccentric. An eccentric who was probably wondering by now why Turlough hadn’t answered his question.

“I’m Turlough, sir,” he said, making sure to smile. “I’m terribly glad to find you here. I was starting to think I was all alone.”

He held out his hand which the Doctor immediately shook.

“Hello Turlough,” he said with a trace of a smile. “I’m the Doctor. And don’t worry. You’re certainly not alone. And you’re quite safe here in the TARDIS, and…. And by the way, how did you happen to end up here?”

Turlough froze. He hadn’t expected the Doctor to be so warm and welcoming. He had had a set of potential lies ready to use, but none of them would work with someone who appeared to be in such a pleasant state of mind.

He would have to improvise.

“I was walking on the grounds of my school with my friend,” he answered. “And then suddenly, this large, grey capsule appeared. Hippo…that’s my friend….he was scared and ran off to find the Headmaster.”

“But you weren’t afraid?” the Doctor inquired. Turlough let out a sound that was somewhere between a chuckle and a noise of surprise.

“Well, it did startle me,” he replied. “But it didn’t seem like something that would harm me in any way, so I moved closer to get a better look at it. A door opened and I was curious so I went inside.”

Turlough studied the Doctor while he talked, searching for any signs of doubt. He didn’t see any, but Turlough knew that that didn’t mean he could let down his guard.

“I’d never seen anything like it,” he continued to lie. “I saw what looked like controls and I couldn’t stop myself from trying a couple out to see what would happen. Next thing I knew, I ended up on this ship. I wandered around and found this police box. Well, you can imagine how surprised I was to find all of this in it.”

“Indeed,” the Doctor nodded.

Turlough’s face fell slightly. He still couldn’t get a definite read on this Doctor. And if it was that hard to figure out whether or not the Doctor believed his story, how would he be able to insinuate himself enough so he’d have a clear chance at killing him?

His unease only increased a moment later when the Doctor gave him another wide grin.

“Well, I’m afraid we’re all in a bit of a spot right now,” the Doctor told him. “And I could use your help. If you’re up for it.”

“Certainly,” Turlough said, somewhat stunned that his story had worked. “What do you need me to do?”

The Doctor smiled again. “Well, for starters, you can….”

“Doctor? Doctor, are you in there?”

Turlough turned to see a pair of women rush into the TARDIS. The shorter one with long, curly hair took a step toward the Doctor.

“Doctor, what is….?”

The Doctor held up a hand. “Please hold that thought for just a moment, Nyssa,” he said. He turned toward Turlough again. “This is Nyssa and Tegan. And…I’ll be back in a second.”

The Doctor sprinted out of the room while the two women moved closer to him.

“Hello, I’m Nyssa.”

“And I’m Tegan Jovanka,” the woman with the shorter, spikier hair said, her arms crossed over her chest.  

“I’m pleased to meet you,” Turlough said, once again, making sure to smile and keep his voice pleasant. He was about to introduce himself when the Doctor marched back into the room, a black and white case in his hand.

“This is Turlough,” the Doctor announced with yet another smile. Turlough bowed his head slightly, but was concerned when he noticed the apprehensive looks on their faces. Their wariness did not diminish one bit even as he tried to pass himself off as a teenaged school boy who was completely bewildered by what had happened. Tegan seemed especially distrustful.

Turlough worried that they would interfere with his plan when, suddenly, the Doctor provided just the opportunity he needed by announcing that he was going back to Earth alone in the transmat capsule.

“May I come with you?” Turlough asked him.

The Doctor looked slightly confused, but not the least bit bothered by what must have seemed like a strange request. “You’d be safer in the TARDIS.”

“Please!” Turlough insisted, desperate for his plan to work.

“All right. Why not?” the Doctor said breezily. He turned toward his companions. “See you on Earth.”

Turlough rushed after the Doctor. He supposed that he could try killing him while they were still on the spaceship now that they were away from the women, but it still seemed too risky.

Besides, something the Doctor said was bothering him.

_‘Why should he care if it’s safer for me on the TARDIS or not? He doesn’t even know me. And, clearly, he has other important things distracting him. So why does he bother?’_

Turlough felt an uncomfortable twinge deep inside. Throughout his exile on Earth, he had done everything he could to avoid being noticed. He didn’t want the attention of Earthlings with their rudimentary knowledge and backward cultures. He kept to the fringes of life, only making himself noticed when he grew so bored, he could no longer stand it.

Most of all though, he was determined to avoid the pity and superficial concern he always got when they found out that he had no family and no connections to anyone other than the odd solicitor who kept track of him, a Trion agent who was in charge of monitoring his exile. They only showed care because it was their duty to or so they would be considered “good” by others in their society. It was easy to see that.

But Turlough knew that the tiny display of concern the Doctor had shown him was not that. The Doctor actually seemed to care if something untoward happened to him. And Turlough hated it. He hated that he’d been noticed. It would be so much easier to carry out this assassination if he wasn’t. He hated the brief, wistful ache he had felt over the thought of someone looking after him out of compassion rather than obligation.

Far more than that though, Turlough hated the doubts that had been planted in his mind. Doubts that the Doctor was a monster who deserved to be murdered. Doubts that he’d be able to go through with killing him.

The doubts continued to worm their way into Turlough while he waited for the Doctor to send the transmat to Earth. He struggled to push them aside as he prepared himself to complete his mission. He wanted…no, needed to escape. When he had told the Guardian that he didn’t entirely care if he lived if it meant staying on Earth, he had meant every word of it. If there was a chance, any chance of returning home to Trion, he had to take it. Even if he would only have a few moments to breathe its air and gaze upon the glorious sky he grew up under before he was executed for his crimes. It would still be worth it.

And that meant that the Doctor had to die.

Turlough glanced over at the energetic, friendly man who was only a couple feet away from him. He would make it quick. Quick and without warning. He didn’t really know the Doctor, but Turlough was still certain that he did not deserve to suffer. Besides, he had never developed a taste for that kind of killing, not even when he was enmeshed in bitter combat with his family’s enemies on Trion.

Turlough clenched his hands. He knew what he had to do. He just wasn’t sure if his resolve to go through with it would last long enough to succeed.


	2. Reminder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place shortly after the events in the Big Finish audio play Phantasmagoria.

Turlough let out a long sigh and leaned back in the chair that was sitting along the wall of the console room.

Looking back on his travels with the Doctor, he supposed that it was inevitable that this would happen. It was clear when he met the Doctor that this was something that was important to him, and that awareness only grew over time. Why else would he look the way he did? And if that wasn’t enough of an indication for Turlough there were always the lectures. Or the trips to various time zones or even other planets on the edges of galaxies. Still, until this moment, there had always been ways to rein in this obsession of the Doctor’s. To distract him from going too far with it. But this time, Turlough knew that there would be no escape.

Not when the Doctor could actually claim that a cricket almanac saved the world…or at the very least, the London of 1702.

“You see, Turlough,” the Doctor said, running a hand lovingly over his almanac. “Good old Wisdens have some sterling properties.”

“Such as acting as bait for an alien bent on destruction?” Turlough smirked. “Or as a hiding place for a biometric playing card? I don’t know much about cricket, Doctor, but I’m willing to bet that ‘good old Wisden’ didn’t have any of that in mind when he wrote that book.”

“Perhaps not,” the Doctor conceded. “But you do have to admit that it’s a very useful tome. It got us out of a tight spot, anyway.”

“I’m not sure what that proves,” Turlough replied. “I recall being able to accomplish the same thing with a hat rack.”

“The temporal circuits are acting up again,” the Doctor said, abruptly changing the subject. “Do me a favor and get me the blue toolbox out of storage…and maybe the green one too. I might need some things out of it as well.”

“Fine,” Turlough shrugged as he got up. “And what shall I do while you’re working on that?”

“I may need you for some of this repair work,” the Doctor said. His brow crinkled slightly with his frown. “In the meantime, how about some interesting reading?”

He tossed the almanac over to Turlough who caught it and turned it around in his hands. As he suspected, there would be no avoiding the subject of cricket for a little while at least.

Turlough let out a huff and stuffed the book into his pocket while he walked down the corridor to fetch the toolboxes. Why did the Doctor get so caught up in all things cricket? The Doctor did say something about “wiling away eternity”. Still, Turlough figured that someone with a time-space machine at his disposal could find much more interesting pursuits to occupy all those endless hours.

 _‘Well, there’s also all the trouble he gets into,’_ Turlough thought with a smirk. _‘That certainly takes up a lot of time.’_

He chuckled and went into the storage room, emerging a few seconds later with both toolboxes. After a brisk walk back to the console room, he found the Doctor still staring at the controls with a frown. Turlough sat the toolboxes by his feet and then went back to slump down in his chair.

“Thank you, Turlough,” the Doctor finally said before plopping down onto the floor and shoving both toolboxes under the console. Then he laid down and removed one of the panels.

Turlough nodded and pulled out his book so he could thumb through it. Truthfully, he knew it wouldn’t be too hard for him to grasp the basics of cricket, but it did seem like it was a game that had been given needless complications in order to make it appear more significant than it really was.

 _‘Typical humans,’_ Turlough mused with a slight snort. Then again, he knew that if he was honest with himself, he could find examples of that kind of behavior on many of the other planets he had visited. Including Trion.

“You seemed to get along well with the locals,” the Doctor said, breaking his train of thought. Turlough looked over to see him laying in a mess of wires on the floor.

Turlough shrugged and sat the book down on the edge of the chair. “They were all right. For Earthlings.”

“They were men of their time,” the Doctor said. “Oh, and could you hand me that device over there near my foot? The one with the blue lights on each end?”

Turlough got up and grabbed the object in question. He crouched down to hand it to the Doctor.

“They were that,” he nodded. “So wrapped up in their gossip and social standing and all that sort of nonsense. But still….”

“Still?” the Doctor said, pausing in his work.

Turlough shrugged again. “They were decent people. Friendly. They took care of me after a carriage almost ran me down.”

The Doctor scooted out from under the console to get a better look at him. “A carriage? You didn’t mention that. Turlough, are you sure you’re…?”

“Yes, I’m all right,” Turlough said with a dismissive flick of his hand.

“Yes, well, in the future, you will make sure to tell me about these things,” the Doctor tutted before sliding back closer to the base of the console.

Turlough nodded again, unsure of how closely he would follow that instruction. Still, as annoying as the Doctor could be when fussing over him, he couldn’t deny that he was touched that the Doctor cared about him as much as he did.

“By the way, how did you happen to almost get run down by a carriage?” the Doctor asked, his voice slightly garbled by the tool he was currently holding in his teeth. “Was it because you were running away? You never did tell me what you were running from that first night at Holywell’s.”

Turlough snorted. “I’m Turlough. Since when do I need a reason to run away?”

He regretted saying that as soon as the words left his lips. Mainly because of how the Doctor stopped what he was doing again and looked at him.

“I’ve never known you to be someone who ran without a reason,” the Doctor said quietly.

Turlough let out another long sigh and sat himself down onto the floor. Much like those times when the Doctor let his cricket obsession take over, he knew that there was no avoiding this conversation either.

“That method Valentine used to track down his victims. There was something about it. I don’t know how to explain it with words other than it felt…evil.”

“Evil?” the Doctor said. He pushed himself out from under the console and sat up to face Turlough.

“Not in the same way that Jasper or Holywell felt about it,” Turlough continued. “They probably thought it was evil because they didn’t know what it was.”

“But you did?” the Doctor asked as he folded his legs in front of him.

“Not really, no,” Turlough replied. He sighed again, unsure he could make the Doctor understand. “What I mean is that I wasn’t afraid because it was unknown and strange. It was…it was as if I just knew that it was evil. That it was being used by an evil being for terrible purposes.”

“I see,” the Doctor responded.

Turlough frowned. The look on the Doctor’s face was a familiar one: curiosity mixed with concern and a touch of giddiness over finding some new puzzle to solve. Turlough knew that the Doctor meant well, but that didn’t completely erase the unease he felt toward that expression.

 “Turlough, are your people psychically sensitive as a rule?”

Turlough frown again, his brows furrowing. Although this time it wasn’t due to discomfort. “No. No I don’t think so. That is…I’m sure any of us would notice a direct psychic assault, but….”

“But they don’t tend to have empathetic or telepathic responses to psychic phenomenon,” the Doctor finished for him. “And yet this isn’t the first time you’ve encountered this sort of energy. You’ve had experience with it before.”

The Doctor didn’t say it out loud, probably in an effort to be kind, but Turlough knew what he was talking about. The Black Guardian. The poisonous voice in his head that had tormented him for weeks and that had come so close to destroying him.

“I suppose I have a knack for picking up on that sort of thing,” he said with a short, brittle laugh.

“Only because you appear to be more perceptive to these energies than others of your species,” the Doctor said. “Psychic sensitivity is nothing to be ashamed of, Turlough.”

“I imagine you’d say it’s a gift,” Turlough huffed.

“It can be,” the Doctor nodded again. “Especially with proper training to help manage it. But I would be lying if I denied that it can also make you more vulnerable to beings who can exploit it for their own purposes.”

Turlough nodded back to show that he understood, not trusting himself to speak at that moment. He loathed thinking of himself as being vulnerable, but there was no escaping it.

“I can help you find ways to defend yourself,” the Doctor said, his voice becoming gentle. “But in order to do that you will need to do two things. First, you must learn to overcome your fear.”

“Well, that leaves me out then,” Turlough sighed.

The look of quiet resolve on the Doctor’s face did not falter in the least. “I already know that you can conquer your fear while controlling your mind, Turlough. As do you. Think back to when you and I and Tegan encountered the Eternals. You found a way to block them from discerning your true intentions.”

Turlough opened his mouth to protest, but immediately stopped when he remembered Captain Wrack’s words to describe his mind: confused, divided, devious and most of all, greedy. The last thing he wanted to do was confess to the Doctor that he had avoided the Eternals’ probing by remaining focused on duplicitous, manipulative lines of thought which were given a thin sheen of rationality.

“Turlough, however you accomplished it, the fact remained that you managed to put aside your fear and prevented them from digging too deeply into your mind,” the Doctor said.

Turlough blinked. It was always a little unnerving when the Doctor seemed to read his mind like that, but right now, he was too distracted by what the Doctor was saying to be upset about it.

“Although, some methods can be less pleasant to use than others,” the Doctor continued. “I can teach you ones that will be easier to cope with. Which leads me to the other thing I need you to do.”

“Which is?” 

The Doctor leaned toward him. “I need you to trust me.”

Turlough swallowed hard, barely able to muffle the gulp he made. Bravery in the face of danger was actually far easier to accomplish than trusting another person. Before he met the Doctor, he hadn’t truly trusted anyone for so long; it had become an ingrained habit.

Despite that, Turlough could acknowledge that he trusted the Doctor more than just about anyone else he had ever known. It felt strange and somewhat frightening to think this way, but he was certain that he was willing to place his life in the Doctor’s hands whenever it was necessary.

At the same time though, the camaraderie that enabled Turlough to place so much faith in the Doctor was the same reason why he could not bring himself to reveal any more about himself and his past than he absolutely needed to. What would the Doctor think of him if he knew everything? Turlough couldn’t believe that it would be anything good and that could ruin the friendship they had built.

No, the Doctor’s friendship was a price he was unwilling to pay under just about any circumstance. If that meant keeping himself hidden away and never receiving the Doctor’s help to heal the wounds of his past or defend himself against attacks on his psyche in the future, Turlough was more than willing to accept it.

“Whenever you are ready for it,” the Doctor added. Turlough nodded, ducking his head down as he did it.

“Thank you,” he mumbled. He hoped that the Doctor understood what he was thanking him for, but was comforted by the idea that the Doctor usually discerned the subtexts in their conversations.

“Now then, let’s get back to work, shall we?” the Doctor said with a cheerful smile. “The sooner we get these repairs done, the sooner I can take you to one of the greatest cricket matches that was ever….”

“Doctor, please, think about every other time you tried to take me or Nyssa or Tegan to ‘one of the greatest cricket matches ever played’,” Turlough interrupted. “About what tends to happen.”

“Yes. Yes, you do have a point there,” the Doctor mused. “Then how about something more adventurous? It’s been a while since I’ve visited the pharaohs or Egypt.”

“Earth again?” Turlough frowned. “Do we have to, Doctor?”

A brief flicker of hurt appeared in the Doctor’s eyes, but it vanished in an instant. “Very well. Then perhaps something a little more out of the way.” The Doctor’s eyes lit up again. “Like Space Station Xalrius. It’s a fascinating place on the edge of galaxy. It’s powered by the gravitational energy generated by a comet which has become trapped in an orbit around the station. And it has some of the best views of its neighboring solar system around.”

“As long as there isn’t going to be a cricket match, I’m game,” Turlough replied. “That is…well, you know what I mean.”

“Turlough, I often think that Tegan had more of an influence on you than you realize,” the Doctor frowned. “You sound more and more like her all the time.”

“Now you’re just trying to insult me,” Turlough smirked. “And that’s not vey cricket either, is it Doctor?”

The Doctor gave him a stern look which was accompanied by a twinkle in his eyes that Turlough immediately picked up on. He snickered as he moved closer to the console to start helping with the repairs.


	3. Endgame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place at the very end of the third episode of Enlightenment.

Turlough stared at the floor and let out a shaky sigh. By now, he was used to the Doctor making what he considered to be unreasonable and foolhardy requests, but this still felt like too much. Sure, he could understand why the Doctor wanted to stay here. Even a few moments away from the Eternals were a relief. Turlough found himself increasingly stressed and exhausted from his efforts to prevent Wrack and her crew from delving too deeply into his mind.

Still that didn’t mean he wanted to stick around a room with easy access to the vacuum of space. A room he almost died in.

Turlough shuddered. Even though he had chosen to jump over the side of Striker’s ship, he hadn’t wanted to die here. Not that way. Jumping off the ship meant a swift death by suffocation. Still scary, but not the worst death Turlough could imagine.

Nevertheless, there had been one moment, one brief moment, when even letting himself be blown into space seemed preferable to the existence he had now. It wasn’t until he felt the strong tug pulling at his legs that the fear and his strong streak of self-preservation won out. Although that also meant prolonging the horror he felt in the face of his own death. Still, Turlough wasn’t sure if dying or continuing to live as a pawn of the Black Guardian was worse, and when he had screamed for the Black Guardian’s help, his desire to be saved and his pleading for a quick, painless death kept blending together.

He’d been even more confused when he started to call for the Doctor instead. Turlough didn’t know what the Doctor would or even could do for him. All Turlough knew was that the Doctor was his only chance. For life, for death, for any sort of release from the fear and pain that was consuming him.

Turlough shuddered again. He didn’t want to stay in this place for a moment longer. Staying here reminded him of the doom that was closing in on him. Besides, he’d probably get another reminder of that before too long from the Black Guardian. His fingers absent-mindedly brushed over the crystal in his pocket.

He looked over at the Doctor and clenched his hands. Why did the Doctor always persist even when faced with impossible odds? The Eternals’ abilities were far beyond that of Time Lords. They had already taken the TARDIS away, leaving them stranded and helpless. And yet, Turlough knew that, whatever the Doctor was planning, none of it involved finding the TARDIS and escaping.

“What do you want to do?” he asked, still hoping that the Doctor had some idea that could get them out of this mess.

“I must find a way of staying on this ship,” the Doctor said, his voice slow and distracted.

So not trying to escape. Of course. And why should it be surprising that, instead of finding a way to do the sensible thing…getting as far away from the Eternals as possible…the Doctor was trying to work out a way to do one of the most dangerous things possible at this moment?

“Why?” Turlough said, not carrying how strained his voice sounded. Granted, it would be the Doctor sticking out his neck this time, not him. However, Turlough felt his anxiety spike all the same.

That sensation made him go back to that same question in his own mind: why? Why did he care if the Doctor risked his own life? Or if Wrack destroyed him? If something happened to the Doctor, Turlough knew that there was a chance that he’d given his freedom from the Black Guardian. Granted, it was also likely that he’d be stuck in the middle of space, but at least it wouldn’t be Brendon. He could still find a way home…that is, as long as the Eternals didn’t decide that they were better off disposing of him. Or as long as Tegan didn’t decide to take out her frustrations onto him over the Doctor dying.

Still, the prospect of escaping the Eternals, the Black Guardian and even Brendon did not seem as appealing to him as it should. Not if it meant that the Doctor would be dead.

“To stop Wrack from winning,” the Doctor answered him.

Once again, Turlough wasn’t surprised by this. Whatever this mission was that the White Guardian had given him, the Doctor had clearly taken it to heart that it was important.

 _‘It’s hopeless,’_ Turlough thought, despair creeping into him again. Someone as earnest and good-hearted as the Doctor would bore Wrack in no time at all. Then she would amuse herself by toying with the Doctor. Perhaps she would even try out some of those torture techniques Wrack had discussed with him earlier.

_‘No!’_

Turlough nearly gasped. Where had that sudden burst of determination come from? Why did the possibility of any harm coming to the Doctor upset him so much? He had agreed to kill him at one point. He had tried more than once to separate the Doctor from his TARDIS which left him vulnerable to his enemies. How would leaving the Doctor’s fate up to Wrack be any different than what he had already done?

_‘Because….’_

Because now the Doctor mattered to him. Because now Turlough could no longer avoid seeing what had been in front of him for a long time.

Turlough thought back to when the Doctor had found him in this room. The terror and desperation he felt while screaming for the Doctor’s help were still fresh in his mind. Pain had been jolting through his head as the Black Guardian laughed at his distress.

Then there was the immense relief he felt when the Doctor opened the door.

Turlough sighed. At first, the Doctor had looked angry, and he’d been nervous that there would be more punishments for all the mistakes he had made. Instead, the Doctor spoke to him softly, even placing a gentle hand onto his back at one point to help calm him. He distracted Turlough from his fear by talking through what they had each learned so far.

The Doctor had saved him. Taken care of him. And Turlough was painfully aware that this hadn’t been the first time.

* * *

  _Not long after they had left Earth, Turlough began to have trouble sleeping. The Black Guardian was always in his head and it was worse whenever he was alone. There were taunts, demands and “reminders” of what would happen if he didn’t go through with their agreement. Even when he could sleep, there were countless nightmares: memories of war on Trion, of watching friends and family die, of having to kill others. Memories of Earth, of the loneliness and crushing boredom he felt, of the stress of trying to fit in and the consequences when his efforts failed._

_It meant that Turlough struggled to get through the days. Keeping his eyes open and making pleasant, coherent conversation were as taxing as running from the latest monster chasing them._

_One day, Turlough had been sitting at the table in the TARDIS’ kitchen, trying to rub away the pounding in his temples. He hadn’t even heard the Doctor until he had sat down across from him. With a smile, the Doctor placed two objects in front of him._

_“What…?”_

_“You’ve seemed exhausted of late and I thought that you might be having trouble sleeping,” the Doctor said. “Place this crystal into your hand for a minute before sitting it next to your bed. The vibrations it will produce are known for having a calming effect on the mind.”_

_“And this?” Turlough said, pointing at the cup._

_“Chamomile tea. An Earth remedy and a good one. Wonderful to help relax the body for sleeping.” The Doctor stood up and patted Turlough’s shoulder. “I’ll be doing some maintenance for a while before we land again. Try to get some rest.”_

* * *

 Unfortunately, Turlough had only been able to get a few extra hours of slumber here and there with the Doctor’s remedies, but they had helped. At least a little.

Turlough might have been able to chalk up the Doctor’s actions to basic politeness. That is until the aftermath of what had happened on Terminus.

* * *

  _After the Black Guardian had finished punishing him for his failures, Turlough had been unable to move or even think. Unconsciousness had not taken the pain away. It had only dulled it for short while. At one point, Turlough was certain that he was going to die._

_Then he was horrified to find out that he was going to live after all._

_The Black Guardian woke him up to urge him to try again to kill the Doctor. But even fear over what might happen to him if he disobeyed was not enough to make battered limbs move, to stop his nerves from feeling as if they were on fire, or to make his mind stop feeling as if it had been flayed layer by layer long enough to come up with a plan._

_All he could do was pass out again and hope he never woke up._

_When Turlough finally did start to come to, it was to someone calling his name again. He had panicked and had cried out as he started to squirm away from the sound, but then he recognized the calm voice speaking to him._

_“Turlough? Turlough, it’s all right. I’m here.”_

_Turlough slowly pried his eyes open to see a familiar face, which was full of concern, looking down at him._

_“Doctor….?”_

_“Yes. It’s me, Turlough,” the Doctor said with a smile. “Lie still for now and try to relax. From what I can tell, you’ve had a very nasty shock.”_

_Turlough slowly turned his head back and forth. He was in the TARDIS sick bay, lying on one of the beds while the Doctor stood at his bedside and waved some instrument he didn’t recognize over him. He couldn’t remember walking here and was soon mortified when he realized that the Doctor had probably carried him._

_Less than a minute later, the Doctor stopped and studied the instrument in his hand for several seconds while frowning before speaking again._

_“You seem to be all right. No permanent damage anyway. How do you feel?”_

_Turlough had almost let out a short laugh. He considered trying to come up with a sarcastic remark, but his mood was too low for his usual humor._

_“Everything hurts,” he said quietly in a rare moment of complete honesty._

_The Doctor pulled up a chair, sat down beside him, and placed a hand onto one of his. “Tegan mentioned that you had received some kind of electrical shock while on Terminus. Is it possible that it affected you more than you might have originally thought?”_

_“I, I don’t know.”_

_That wasn’t entirely a lie. Turlough was certain that the punishment the Black Guardian had inflicted on him was the source of most of the damage, but what exactly had been done to him and if the shock he had received earlier was contributing to the pain he felt now was unknown._

_The Doctor gave his hand a light squeeze and stood up. “All right. Stay here and rest. I’ll be back later to check on you and….”_

_“Doctor!”_

_The Doctor paused. “Yes? What is it?”_

_Turlough heard the words he wanted to say in his mind. He wanted to thank the Doctor. To ask if he really was going to be all right. To beg the Doctor to stay and not leave him open to more torment from the Black Guardian. He could hear all of that in his head, but could not work up the courage to say a single word of it._

_Fortunately, he didn’t have to say anything at all._

_“All right,” the Doctor said, sitting back down. “Try to get some rest.”_

_And Turlough did. For the first time in what seemed like forever, he had gotten a full cycle of sleep. And when he woke up, the Doctor was still there._

* * *

Turlough’s mind snapped back to the present. Back to where he and the Doctor were on Wrack’s ship and the Doctor was formulating some suicidal plan to stay here.

It was ridiculous. Hopeless. Turlough was as certain of that as he was the reality of life and the finality of death.

Turlough tried hard to convince himself that that certainty was what finally pushed him to act.

“Let me stay,” he insisted. He saw doubt flicker on the Doctor’s face. It stung, but Turlough knew he deserved it. “Or don’t you trust me yet?”

A trace of a smile appeared on the Doctor’s face, one that almost seemed to be tinged with…regret?

“You couldn’t cope,” the Doctor answered. “These creatures have vast powers. That’s why none of them must win. To achieve further power would be a disaster.”

Turlough sighed inwardly yet again. He was all too aware of the Eternals’ vast powers. He didn’t need the Doctor reminding him. Then again, Turlough figured that the Doctor was simply trying to find a kind way of saying what Turlough already knew: the Doctor didn’t trust him after all. Why should he really? Turlough knew he hadn’t done a single thing to earn any sort of trust.

His dismay over the Doctor’s lack of trust was brushed aside when it finally sank in that the Doctor intended to try to stop all of the Eternals, not just Captain Wrack.

“But the other ships…you can’t stop all of them!”

“We can but try,” the Doctor said with a wry smile on his lips.

Turlough gaped at him. The Doctor was mad. Had to be. Only a mad man would think he could outwit and overpower a whole group of Eternals bent on gaining even more power.

He was about to reply to that when, suddenly, the Doctor was seized by Wrack’s crew and a sword was pressed against the Time Lord’s exposed throat.

Turlough swallowed hard. That sight reminded him far too much of the death of his mother. A weapon had been held to her head and she had glared at her executioner right up to the moment when she was put to death. A moment Turlough had been forced to watch.

And now, another person he cared about…yes, cared about…would be killed right in front of him.

In that moment, everything had become clear to Turlough. He was doomed, just as the Black Guardian had said. Acceptance of this fact finally took root in his soul. As much as he longed to survive, escape and be free, Turlough understood now that that would not be his fate. He would be destroyed. It was only a question of when and which hand would be the one to carry out that task.

_‘But the Doctor….’_

Turlough felt an ache deep inside him. The Doctor had been the first person in such a long time to actually show him compassion and understanding. Not since before the war on Trion had Turlough felt the comfort of someone being truly concerned about his wellbeing without any obligations or expectations attached.

Grim determination began to still Turlough’s quaking insides. Somehow, he’d been given another chance and he could not waste it. He’d been unable to save the people he cared for most during the war, but now he could save someone else who was important to him. From the Eternals. Maybe even from the Black Guardian.  

No matter what it cost, he would make sure that the Doctor would be spared. Maybe it wouldn’t make up for all the terrible things he had done up to now.

Still, Turlough knew that it would make for a better end than what he deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enlightenment is one of my favorite Fifth Doctor era story-lines, so don't be surprised if it pops up again in my work. XD


	4. Battle Remnants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place immediately after Warriors of the Deep.

It was days like today when Turlough wondered why the Doctor enjoyed traveling through time and space.

He hadn’t been looking forward to going to Earth yet again in the first place. With an entire universe out there to explore, Turlough couldn’t understand why the Doctor and Tegan insisted on coming back to that backward little planet over and over again. Still, Turlough figured he could grin and bear it for Tegan’s sake. Besides, being with the Doctor, there was a guarantee that it wouldn’t be as boring and tedious as when he was stuck at Brendon.

Unfortunately, what started out as a mild annoyance spiraled into panic as they faced yet another fight for their lives. With a weapons satellite trying to shoot them down from space and then packs of security guards chasing them around the sea base. And that was before the Silurians and Sea Devils showed up. It was little wonder that even the Doctor had armed himself for much of their adventure.

Still, it was obvious to Turlough that the Doctor was uncomfortable with the aggressive methods he had had to employ. It was a disgust which reached its peak when he was forced to use the hexachromite gas to stop the annihilation of the human race. It was a noble goal, Turlough figured, but the numerous corpses lying about the sea base were a stark reminder of how costly such a noble goal can be.

Turlough leaned back in his chair in the kitchen and shuddered. That sight reminded him too much of the war on Trion. Of his days spent in the Imperial Forces trying to restore order and tradition. When it was over and he was captured, Turlough made a vow to himself. If he did manage to survive the punishments that the new government had in store for him, he would never be a solider again. Not for Trion. Not for anything.

As he thought about that promise he had made, Turlough let out a bitter chuckle. It was why he had refused to have anything to do with the CCF while he was at Brendon. Turlough was certain that his teachers and perhaps even the headmaster had thought that his refusal was because he was a coward. He didn’t mind that. He was a coward after all. They didn’t need to know that a large part of it was because he could probably injure or even kill his fellow classmates if he had actually put the training he had received to serious use.

Another part of it was that Turlough didn’t see any point to playing solider. Let the people who had no idea about the real horrors of war, who had no idea what it was like to have blood on their hands, do it. That part of his life was closed forever.

Until today when it wasn’t.

The smirk on Turlough’s lips faded. If someone had told him that he would willingly become a soldier again, he would have thought that they were mad. Or intentionally stupid. Nevertheless, when he heard Myrka roaring behind the bulkhead door and thought about the Doctor and Tegan trapped in there with it, something inside Turlough twisted. In that moment, he stopped being Turlough, political prisoner, professional coward, and exile hiding among humans. He went back to being Junior Ensign Commander Vislor Turlough, elite member of the Imperial Clans of Trion.

And just like back then, the people who were dearest to him were being threatened with death.

In an instant, Turlough’s training came back to him. Disarming the human restraining him, ruthlessly demanding that his orders be followed, and cutting down any enemies who fired at him became natural to him again.

Fight, stay alive and protect the people he belonged to. Those were the only imperatives that mattered in battle. It helped him survive, but the truth was, it sickened him too. Probably in much the same way as it did the Doctor. The only difference between them was that Turlough knew he could be pragmatic about it and keep most of the disgust and regret at bay. Most of it.

The one thing that aided the most with that was the knowledge that he would make the same choice if he had the chance to do things over again. So much for the oath he had made to himself. Turlough felt irritated and disappointed that he had broken it.

Then again, it wasn’t entirely his own doing. The Doctor had that effect on him. The fact was, Turlough found himself doing a lot of things he hadn’t done for a long time or ever since he had joined the Doctor in his travels. He was being changed. Probably into a “good” person although he wasn’t entirely sure what that was in regards to himself or if it was for the best.

“You going to drink that tea or just stare at it?”

Turlough briefly closed his eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh. Tegan. She had a habit of appearing at less than desirable times.

He took a long sip of his tea, grimacing at how cold and bitter it was. How appropriate right now. Tegan simply scowled at him.

“I could make you some fresh tea,” she said. “Or you can just keep drinking that and suffer.”

“As opposed to drinking your tea and suffering?” Turlough smirked at her. “Perhaps I’d rather endure suffering of my own making.”

“Suit yourself,” Tegan said, her glare intensifying. It wasn’t much, but Turlough considered it a win when he was able to be the one with the last bit of snark in a conversation with her.

Tegan worked silently as she got the tea kettle going, prepared the infuser, and got out the rest of the tea setting. For a few moments, Turlough began to think that that would be the end of it.

“You seemed pretty comfortable with a gun in your hands.”

Turlough frowned at glanced up to see Tegan studying him, her arms crossed over her chest. He knew that look. That was her I-don’t-trust-you-and-here-are-the-reasons-why look.

He sat up straighter in his chair, making sure to look her in the eye. “It’s a good thing that I am as it turns out. Or maybe I wouldn’t have been able to save your life. More than once, I might add.”

Tegan scowled some more. Turlough could already tell that, while that comment had slowed her down, it wasn’t going to put a halt to whatever agenda she had in mind for this discussion.

“You didn’t actually shoot anyone to get the Doctor and me away from that Myrka thing,” she said with what Turlough thought was a surprising amount of confidence considering how there was no way she could know that for sure. “And you were plenty ready to run and save your own hide and leave the Doctor behind.”

“And yet, I didn’t, did I?”

“Not from lack of trying. You would have scampered off in the TARDIS if you thought you could get away with it.”

Now it was Turlough’s turn to glare. “And what do you think I should have done? Turned myself in to the guards at the first opportunity? Or maybe you would have preferred that I’d thrown myself in front of one of the Earthlings so they could live about two seconds longer before the Sea Devils killed them anyway?”

“Or you could consider checking to see if the Doctor or I are still alive before running off to save your own skin,” Tegan snapped back.

Turlough’s frowned deepened. He couldn’t be sure about Tegan, but he knew the Doctor well enough to know how he would respond if either of them threw their lives away under the guise of “doing something”. The Doctor would hate it. He would panic and do whatever he could to prevent it…even if it cost him his own life.

He bit back a sigh. The way he saw it, part of the Doctor trusting them as his friends and companions meant being certain that they would look after themselves and avoid pointless suicidal actions. It was probably part of what kept the Doctor alive: the knowledge that he could focus on getting out of his own scrapes and solving the underlying problems at hand rather than constantly splitting his attention to protect them. Why couldn’t Tegan see it that way?

“Is that what this is about?” he said. “You’re going to yell at me about the things I didn’t actually do because of what might have happened even though it didn’t?”

Tegan paused and Turlough could actually see on her face how she was working out what he had just said so she could come up with a sarcastic response to it. This conversation could almost be amusing if it weren’t for that fact that Tegan seemed to be deliberately poking at some of the few soft spots he had.

“I just want to know that we can trust you,” she finally said.

Turlough let out a dramatic sigh. “That again? I’ve already told you that I never really wanted to work for the Black Guardian in the first….”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve said that,” Tegan interrupted. “But that was before.”

“Before?”

Tegan took a deep breath. “Before we found out more about you. Before we saw how you can handle a weapon. When we thought you were just some misguided fool who….”

“Thank you for that, really,” Turlough said with a snort. “It’s nice to know that I’ve been upgraded to ‘misguided fool’ from ‘coldblooded murderer’.”

“When we thought you were just some misguided fool who’d gotten in over his head,” Tegan persisted. “But now we know different, don’t we? You running about with that gun in your hands like you’ve done it all before. Because you have, haven’t you?”

Turlough took another slurp of his cold tea. This time, he didn’t even notice the taste. “And what if I have? Does it matter?”

“You know it does,” Tegan shot back. “It means you probably know what it’s like to kill someone.”

“Kill maybe, but not murder,” Turlough said, his tone tightly wound. “There is a difference.”

“I don’t see one,” Tegan retorted.

“Don’t you?” Turlough said with a laugh meant to disguise his rising temper. “Or do you go up to every solider you see and call them a murderer too?”

The kettle let out a loud whistle causing both of them to jump slightly. Tegan whirled around and quietly busied herself with finishing up the tea and arranging everything onto a tray. After she finished, she carried it over to the table and sat it down in the middle before sitting down. Turlough noted that she had added a plate of biscuits to the tray.

And that there were two cups.

“It wasn’t by choice, was it?” she said softly, looking down at her cup while she poured. “Being a solider?”

“It often isn’t,” Turlough said, his tone still grim. He gulped down the rest of his tea, wincing as he did it. “And I never actually said I was a soldier.”

“Fine, have it your way,” Tegan said with a sigh of her own. “Keep playing your little games.”

She placed a clean cup in front of Turlough and poured some of her tea into it. “I know you never have milk. Want any sugar?”

Turlough blinked in surprise. “No, I…not this time. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Tegan said, raising her cup to her lips.

Turlough also took a sip. Tegan had definitely improved in her tea making skills. He figured that the Doctor had had a hand in that. As he sipped, Turlough felt some of pique dissipate. He still did not want to talk about his past, but he didn’t feel like being antagonistic any more either.

“It hadn’t been by choice, no,” he said. “For many reasons.”

Tegan nodded. “Did you…did you see a lot of combat?”

Turlough snorted again. “You mean, did I kill a lot of people? That’s what you’re really asking, isn’t it? Why? Does the number matter?”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t,” Tegan said, looking down into her cup. “Not when you answer it that way.”

“What do you mean?”

Tegan took another sip before answering. “Because however many it was…it still bothers you.”

Turlough had to work hard to resist the urge to gape at her. That was not a response he had expected from Tegan of all people. He suddenly wondered if it was possible that the Doctor would also be as understanding.

“Look, Turlough, I’m grateful that you saved our lives,” Tegan said, still looking downward. “You did stick your neck out for us and we wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t. I guess…I guess I thought I knew the kind of person you were when you made that deal with the Black Guardian. Now I’m finding out that you were someone else all along.”

“Someone you can’t trust?” Turlough asked, genuinely curious.

“I don’t know,” Tegan answered. “And I guess that’s what’s really bothering me.”

Turlough nodded. He thought that Tegan was frequently irrational, but what she just said made a lot of sense to him. Not that it meant that he enjoyed being on the receiving end of her trust issues.

“I’m not going to try to kill the Doctor,” he said, his voice sincere. “Or you. If that helps.”

Tegan snickered and looked up at him. “You wouldn’t have a prayer with me, you drongo. I’d snapped you in half.” Suddenly, her expression became more serious again. “And…and I know that you care about the Doctor. In your own weird, twisted way, I’m sure.”

Turlough smirked at her again although there was no irritation in it. If only she knew how odd it felt to him as well. To have someone in his life again who trusted him, despite knowing him beyond the façade and who Turlough felt he could trust implicitly. Someone he felt proud to call a friend and whose friendship he was honored to have in return.

“And it’s a good thing too,” Tegan continued, exasperation creeping back into her voice. “With all the trouble the Doctor gets into, it’s a full time job to look after him. I could use the help.”

Turlough laughed. “He does seem to have a penchant for it.” Thoughts about the Doctor and their recent troubles caused his smile to falter. “Those burns on his face didn’t seem too serious. I was able to heal them with that dermal repair unit you showed me. But did he seem a little…off to you? Attaching his mind to that computer had to have been a strain.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Tegan said. “You weren’t here when he regenerated to…what he’s like now. It went badly, and he almost died. And he kept talking about trying to heal from neural damage while he was recovering.”

“And yet he thought it would be a sensible to try to link his brain into an unsophisticated weapons system and try to short circuit it?” Turlough snapped. He surprised himself with the anger that had seeped into his voice, but Tegan didn’t seem to notice it.

“Since when has the Doctor ever done anything even remotely sensible?” Tegan said, shaking her head. “The man is hopeless. Completely unreliable.”

Despite his concern, Turlough chuckled and found himself enjoying it when Tegan joined in.

“No…I must...Tegan…Turlough….!”

Both Tegan and Turlough immediately stopped laughing. The panic in the Doctor’s voice was obvious, causing them to jump up from their chairs and race toward the console room.

As he ran, in the back of his mind, Turlough couldn’t help but notice how, once again, he was readying himself to do whatever was needed to help the Doctor. It still felt strange, to live life again thinking of someone else as much as himself. Turlough wasn’t always sure that he enjoyed it.

Then again, he didn’t want it to end any time soon, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For any readers outside the UK: the CCF stands for Combined Cadet Force, a program that gives students a chance to have similar experiences to what they'd get in military school.
> 
> Also, chapter four in my Tea and Cricket fic ties in with this and will show what's happening with the Doctor at the end of this chapter.


	5. Auld Acquaintance, Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place after Enlightenment but before The King's Demons.   
> It also follows the Big Finish time-line where an older Nyssa rejoins the TARDIS for some more adventures with the Doctor, Tegan and Turlough. So, more specifically, it's not long after the events in Kiss of Death and will have some spoilers for that story.

“Tegan, this is the seventh time I’ve moved these lights around.”

“Hold still, will ya? I need to double check to make sure that they look right with the rest of the strands.”

“Wouldn’t it have been better to have planned where you wanted these lights before you had me start helping you with this ridiculous chore?”

“Oh come on, Turlough. You don’t plan out Christmas decorations. You just start filling spaces and go from there. That’s half the fun.”

“Fun for you, perhaps. But then, you’re not the one standing on a chair having to rearrange strings of lights over and over again.”

“Yeah, yeah….ok, I think we’re done with the lights.”

“Finally.”

“Now we can put up these wreaths.”

“Tegan….”

Standing near the entrance of the console room, Nyssa watched the scene in front of her with a smile on her face.

Yesterday, after a surprisingly uneventful visit to the temple of Barl to see the legendary chants of the priestesses who resided there; Tegan had mentioned that the singing had reminded her of Christmas. The Doctor immediately latched onto this idea.

_“Well, Tegan, it’s always Christmas somewhere in time and space. How about we find one of our own?”_

Both Tegan and Nyssa had thought it would be a fine idea having enjoyed the Christmas celebrations they had had together on the TARDIS before. To Nyssa, it felt like a good opportunity to remember her father and the family she had gained many years later.

The only person who had seemed less than enthused by the idea was Turlough. Although, instead of his usual responses of grumbling or sarcastic remarks, Turlough had simply shrugged and gone off to his room to spend time alone. An activity that he had been doing more and more these days ever since their adventure that took them to the wintery planet that had belonged to Turlough’s family.

Ever since Deela.

Nyssa shook her head. None of them had been surprised when Turlough had become withdrawn after what happened with Deela. They all knew it had been a terrible blow to him. At first, they had decided to give Turlough space so he could sort through his feelings on his own.

The problem was, Turlough only seemed to be retreating further and further into a shell of apathy and silence. There was no polite conversation with her, no sniping with Tegan or pointed comments about how often they landed on Earth. Not even the usual in-depth discussion and technical talk that he shared with the Doctor while working on TARDIS maintenance. In fact, Turlough hardly said a word at all, only speaking when spoken to. It wasn’t long before they also realized that he was barely eating and that the exhaustion in his eyes was probably due to his getting little rest as well.

“Tegan, what possible reason is there for putting up this many decorations?”

“To look festive. Honestly, Turlough, didn’t you learn anything about Christmas when you were at Brendon?”

“Unfortunately, yes. But, strangely enough, it never seemed to involve covering every square centimeter with gaudy trinkets.”

Nyssa put a hand to her mouth to stifle the giggle that had risen to her lips. Much like the Doctor, she usually wasn’t a fan of Tegan and Turlough’s quarreling, but this didn’t feel like quarreling as much as good-natured ribbing. After how desolate Turlough had been of late, it was a relief to see him regain some semblance of his usual self.

Still, she also noticed a brittle edge to Turlough’s tone that wasn’t usually there and had seen how wearily he moved while putting up the decorations. It was clear to her that they may have succeeded in pulling Turlough out of his melancholy for the moment, but it wasn’t likely to last.

“Hey Nyssa, could you see if the Doctor’s got any more decorations in that store room?” Tegan called out to her. “Oh and we need some more of that adhesive too. This stuff works great for decorations.”

“Yes, perhaps you should try using it yourself sometime,” Turlough said with a frown as he fastened another wreath into place.

“I’ll check,” Nyssa nodded before walking down the corridor. She stopped by the room she shared with Tegan to get another vial of the adhesive she had stored with her tools. Then she headed off for a storeroom that was further down the corridor so she could search through some cardboard boxes in the corner.

Earlier that day, they had landed in the merchant city of Karias. Each of them had spent a short time shopping for gifts. Even Turlough, although it had taken a lot of persuasion on the Doctor’s part to get him to do it. The Doctor decided to go last and had left hours ago to visit some old friends before shopping.

Nyssa found some stockings which she recognized as ones they had used before. Before Turlough had joined them. Before she had stayed behind on Terminus. Back when Adric was still with them.

Thoughts of Adric made her mind drift toward thoughts of her own family. Of her husband and her children. She hoped that they were well. Nyssa imagined that some time will have passed when the Doctor finally helped her back to her proper place in her time line. She just hoped that they wouldn’t be too upset over her absence.

She gathered up the stockings and a few other decorations she thought would look pretty on the console room walls. She knew that the Doctor would probably return soon and was looking forward to starting their festivities.

Nyssa’s brow creased with concern. While all of them were troubled by Turlough’s behavior these days, she knew that the Doctor in particular was terribly worried about him, even if he often did his best to show no outward sign of it. He always took the wellbeing of his companions to heart. Thus, Nyssa was certain that it was hurting him to watch Turlough wither away. The more she thought about it, the more she was certain that the Doctor did not arrange this Christmas celebration just to keep Tegan happy. It was also another attempt to reach Turlough, to gently coax him away from the gloom that he was currently enveloped in.

Having found everything she was looking for, Nyssa stood up and went back to the console room. Turlough had finished hanging wreaths and was standing in a corner of the room scowling while Tegan inspected the decorations. As soon as she saw Nyssa return, she grinned.

“Ah thanks, Nyssa. Hey, I’d forgotten about all this stuff. Thanks. And I know just where I want to put all it too.”

Turlough’s scowl deepened and he looked as if he was about to protest when he was cut off by the TARDIS doors opening. Nyssa and Tegan also looked over to see the Doctor walk into the room. He was still wearing his cricketer outfit, but had replaced his usual Panama hat with a Santa one, the white pompom on the tip dangling over his left shoulder. He had bags draped over both of his arms and a sunny grin on his face.

“Ah, Tegan, Turlough, the console room looks lovely. Well done, both of you. Nyssa, could you please help me arrange the presents?”

* * *

 

A few minutes later, the four of them were sitting in a semicircle with a small pile of presents on a table front of them. By this point, most of them had been opened with bits of paper scattered about the floor. Turlough was currently studying the box of colorful designer socks Tegan had given him while the other three had just finished opening their gifts from him to discover that Turlough had bought all of them gifts of exotic foods.

They glanced over at him and Turlough shrugged. “I thought we were all here to experience new things. Enjoying food you’ve never had before can be an experience too.”

“I agree,” Nyssa said with a nod. “Thank you for the lollia berries, Turlough. They look lovely.”

“Quite right,” the Doctor said with an encouraging smile. “And I am looking forward to trying these tea hybrids you found.”

“I’ve never had bosierre pies,” Tegan said, studying the packaging. “But they do look good. I hope they go well with tea.”

Each of them put aside their latest gifts and plucked another one from the pile with Turlough choosing a large box that turned out to be from the Doctor.

“Ah yes, I think you’ll find this very interesting, Turlough,” the Doctor said, scooting closer to him.

Turlough knit his brows together as he peeled away the wrapping paper in long sheets. He opened the box to find a large sketchpad filled with blank pages that felt as thick and sturdy as canvas. There was also a small jar filled with a royal blue gel that glittered with gold and silver flecks.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Turlough said, his tone muted, but polite. The Doctor grinned and held up an index finger.

“Not so fast. These aren’t the usual sort of art supplies. That is a very special kind of paint. Open the jar.” Turlough gave him a questioning look, but did as he was told. “Now, dip your finger into the paint. Just along the surface. You only need a small amount to make this work.”

“Cripes, Doctor, you got Turlough finger paint?” Tegan chuckled. Turlough glared at her.

“Not quite, Tegan,” the Doctor sighed. “Go on, Turlough.”

Turlough brushed his index finger along the gel, making a long swirl into it. Once he was done, the Doctor took the jar from him, put the lid back on, and then placed the sketchpad onto Turlough’s lap.

“This works best with people like you who have a strong aptitude for art,” the Doctor said, opening up the pad to first page. “Now, place your finger onto the center of the page and concentrate.”

“On what?” Turlough asked.

“That is entirely up to you,” the Doctor answered. “Form a picture in your mind and concentrate on it. See yourself putting the picture onto the paper.”

“All right,” Turlough said. He put his finger onto the paper and closed his eyes. He stayed that way for almost a full minute, silent and still.

Then Nyssa and Tegan gasped as they watched the paint slide off Turlough’s finger in long, thin threads. The threads danced across the page, writing and twisting and then finally connecting to form shapes. It wasn’t long after that that the shapes shifted into a face. A face with fine features and light colored hair. Color filled the spaces between the lines and that was when Turlough finally opened his eyes.

Nyssa, Tegan and the Doctor all moved closer to see Deela’s face on the paper, smiling and looking straight at Turlough.

Turlough’s lips pressed into a thin line as shock, despair and then anger flickered across his face. Without a word, he pushed the sketchpad from his lap, bolted up from his chair and marched out of the console room. A few seconds later, they heard the slam of a door in the corridor.

The Doctor picked up the sketchpad and placed onto Turlough’s empty chair with a sigh while Nyssa and Tegan sat back down onto their chairs.

“Well, I guess that’s the end of this party,” Tegan said. “Poor Turlough.”

“Perhaps I should have a word with him,” Nyssa said. The Doctor stood up and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“No. Thank you, Nyssa, but I think I should go this time.”


	6. Auld Acquaintance, Part Two

Turlough sat on his bed, staring at the floor as he struggled to hold back the emotions that were starting to overwhelm him.

He had tried to forget about Deela. Had told himself that it should have been easy. He hadn’t seen her for years until just recently and even then it was only for a short while. Besides, Deela could only exist in the past now and Trions didn’t dwell in the past. They kept their focus on the present. For the most part anyway.

Unfortunately, what Turlough was determined to do and what his mind and heart actually did were vastly different. Memories of the hours he’d spent with Deela clouded his thoughts. Sleeping and eating became tedious chores that he skipped frequently. He tried to avoid interacting with his fellow travelers whenever he could having no interest in Tegan’s sniping or Nyssa’s sympathy. The only exception he made was continuing to work with the Doctor on TARDIS maintenance. Mainly because the Doctor would allow him to work quietly with no pressure to talk.

Turlough took a deep breath, his body trembling and his eyes burning. He knew he wasn’t being a very cooperative or pleasant passenger these days, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Nothing seemed to matter in this drab, empty universe where he had no family, no home, and no one he could love. The only reason he had left the Winter Planet with the Doctor was out of habit. At least, he was fairly certain that was all it was.

A knock at the door made Turlough jump.

“Turlough? Turlough, may I come in?”

The Doctor. Of course it was. Turlough didn’t really want to deal with anyone right now, but he was forced to admit that the Doctor wasn’t just “anyone”. There was also the fact that, much to his irritation at times, Turlough usually found it difficult to turn down any of the Doctor’s requests.

“Come in,” he said curtly.

The door opened and the Doctor stepped cautiously inside. Turlough went back to staring at the floor, hoping that the Doctor hadn’t noticed his too shiny eyes. Then he felt the bed shift as the Doctor sat down next to him.

“Sorry,” Turlough muttered, not really sure why he said it. A hand patted his forearm.

“No, I should be the one to apologize,” the Doctor said. “I should have told you beforehand how the paint worked. I was too caught up in wanting to surprise you and too curious to see what you would create with it.”

Turlough nodded in agreement. He did blame the Doctor some for what happened, but he also didn’t see any point in punishing him too much for it.

“You should go back,” Turlough said, his voice quiet and watery. “I…Nyssa and Tegan….”

“Turlough,” the Doctor said softly. He didn’t say anything more as he placed a hand onto one of Turlough’s.

Turlough looked down and watched for a moment before finally moving his fingers to grasp at the Doctor’s hand. Although the Doctor was silent, Turlough was certain that this was not meant to be the end of this conversation. He waited for a bit, holding tightly onto the Doctor’s hand, before finally working up the effort to speak.

“Doctor, can you make me forget? Forget about Deela and all the time I spent with her?”

The Doctor let out a long sigh. “I could, but I’m not sure if that would be for the best. Too many other memories could be lost in the process. Memories of your past that….”

“I don’t care!” Turlough snapped. He tightened his grip on the Doctor’s hand again, the gesture helping to rein in his charged emotions. “I don’t need them anyway.”

“Turlough, our memories are who we are. They are what shapes our essential nature. If I take too many memories away, it could change you into a different person. You would lose yourself.”

Turlough let out a short laugh. “Is that such a bad thing? I’m sure Tegan would love it.”

The Doctor leaned in, looking him in the eye. “I wouldn’t,” he said solemnly.

Turlough sighed and shook his head before turning his gaze back toward the floor. A part of him wanted to ask the Doctor why he wouldn’t want to make him into a different person. Maybe even a better person. But he was also unsure if he really wanted to hear the answers.

“I just want to stop….” Turlough’s voice trailed off. Stop thinking about Deela. Stop feeling so much pain and loss. Stop feeling alone.

No, not alone. A gentle squeeze of the Doctor’s hand reminded him of that. Normally, it was a comforting gesture that Turlough knew he needed once in a while. Thankfully, the Doctor understood that too.

But right now, Turlough also loathed how this bit of caring made the lump in his throat swell.

“Turlough, I didn’t know Deela the way you did, but I do believe that she cared about you.”

Turlough snorted. “Sure she cared. That’s why she lied to me. And why she went along with having me kidnapped just so she could steal some useless junk. Oh and I’m sure she would have cared enough to make sure it was quick and painless when her ‘friends’ got around to killing me.”

“She might have agreed to Rennol’s plan when it was proposed to her, but I believe she found it much more difficult when she was faced with the actual consequences of it. Especially when she saw you again and she discovered the feelings she still had for you. After all, it’s so easy to agree to something when you only have to deal with the abstract of it, isn’t it?”

Turlough snorted again and was about to argue his point further when the subtext of the Doctor’s words sank in. Oh….yes. Now that he thought about it, were he and Deela so unalike after all? With what they were willing to do…with who they were willing to hurt….

“I only allude to that because I’ve never regretted my decisions regarding you,” the Doctor continued. “Especially given what I gained as a result. And I believe that it would be the same for you, Turlough.”

Turlough swallowed hard. “Forgive and forget? I…I don’t know if I can do that.” He chuckled bitterly. “Not everyone is like you, Doctor.”

The Doctor’s lips curled into a smile. “I doubt you could forget what happened. But perhaps you could remember Deela as she was. As she wanted to be in the end. I think you’ll find that those memories are no less real and precious as they were before.”

The Doctor closed his hand around Turlough’s again and turned to face the door. They sat together that way for a couple of minutes while Turlough felt his anger and grief begin to unwind. Soon, his eyes dried and the ache in his chest dulled.

“Now then, let’s rejoin the others, shall we?” the Doctor announced. Turlough let out a shaky breath.

“Doctor, I…could I have a few more minutes? Alone? I’ll come out in a little bit, I promise. I just…I need to….”

“Of course,” the Doctor said. He let go of Turlough’s hand and stood up. “Join us at the table when you’re ready. The TARDIS has been hard at work with our dinner, and I’m pretty sure I smelled gingerbread.”

* * *

 

 It wasn’t long before Turlough left his room and found the others sitting at the table, helping themselves to the feast that had been laid out with many traditional Earth staples along with a couple of Traken dishes as well. None of them said anything about what happened earlier and simply greeted him with smiles as he sat down.

After that, they began to eat while the Doctor shared stories of Christmases he had spent throughout time and space. It hadn’t been easy, but Turlough forced himself to take a full plate of food and to try to eat as much as he could. After he started, he was surprised at how much he was enjoying it. It suddenly felt silly that he’d been starving himself and decided he’d had enough of that.

Afterward, they finished their meal with desserts, including Christmas cookies, served with tea.

“It was a wonderful meal, Doctor,” Nyssa said.

“Yes, the TARDIS outdid herself this time,” the Doctor nodded. “Oh and Turlough, this tea is quite good. Thank you.”

Turlough jumped slightly and looked up from his cup of mostly untouched tea. “Oh…you’re welcome, Doctor,” he said, distracted. The Doctor gave him a nod and went back to discussing the meal with Nyssa and Tegan.

Meanwhile, Turlough sipped at his tea while doing his best to hold back a sigh. He agreed that it had been a good meal and a pleasant evening overall. Still, he felt disconnected from what was happening around him. From the laughter Nyssa and Tegan shared. From the warmth and humor the Doctor brought forth with tales of his travels. All of it seemed to be happening to someone else. Not to Vislor Turlough. At least not the Turlough he saw himself to be.

“Now then, how about some crackers?” the Doctor said, beaming.

Turlough rolled his eyes, but accepted one of the party favors just the same. He’d seen them at a Christmas party Hippo had dragged him to when he first arrived at Brendon so he knew what they were for. It didn’t stop him from feeling that they were silly and pointless.

That feeling intensified a few minutes later after the contents of the crackers had been spilled out onto the table and he ended up wearing a dark blue paper crown.

“Well, it goes with your eyes,” Tegan had quipped.

“What does the paper from your cracker say?” Nyssa had asked him.

Turlough let out a long dramatic sigh and picked up the scrap of paper. “What do you call a cute fawn who has been left out in a thunderstorm?”

“I don’t know,” the Doctor said. His red paper crown was tilted back on his head. “What do they call it?”

Turlough developed a pained expression. “A Rain Deer.

The Doctor and Nyssa chuckled lightly while Tegan shook her head. “Cripes Turlough, that was awful.”

“Yes well,” Turlough replied, crinkling the paper up and tossing it toward the middle of the table. “It’s not as if I wrote that. Or any of the others.”

“Oh come on, Turlough,” Tegan said. “Have a cookie.”

She placed one of the gingerbread men onto a small plate and pushed it toward him. Turlough stared at it for a few seconds before picking it up and taking a tentative bite. This was something else he had seen on Earth, but had never bothered to try. After another bite, however, he decided that he liked it just the same.

It was at that moment that something changed inside Turlough. Eating this cookie, watching the Doctor, Nyssa and Tegan laugh and groan over another inane joke, even sitting here with a stupid paper hat on his head….Turlough suddenly realized that he wasn’t dreading any of this. He didn’t really feel happy or excited. He simply felt…content. He was enjoying this moment and no longer felt guilty or angry in response to that feeling. Briefly, he felt his eyes grow moist again, but he didn’t understand why.

“Hey Nyssa, can I try one of those lollia berries Turlough got you?”

“Certainly. However, you will need to be careful because they are quite….”

As Nyssa talked, Tegan stuck her fork into one of the larger berries which squished down under the pressure. This result in a thin stream of juice shooting outward…and into the Doctors’ face.

“…juicy,” Nyssa finished.

Tegan’s mouth fell open as Nyssa put a hand over her mouth and vibrated silently. The Doctor had a look of annoyance as he sat there, purple berry juice dripping off his nose and chin. Then in a moment of good-natured cheer, all three of them laughed.

And Turlough surprised himself by quietly laughing along with them.

Nyssa and Tegan didn’t even notice it while facing each other and giggling. The Doctor, however, had, making sure to only give Turlough a warm grin in acknowledgment so as to not draw too much attention to it.

Turlough soon stopped, his face returning to its inscrutable expression except for the astonishment in his eyes. Even with the grief he felt over Deela, he had figured on continuing on the way he always did. He just hadn’t expected that he could actually savor life again.

It was then that Turlough decided that there was one more thing he needed to do for Christmas before the day was through.

* * *

 

Several hours later, the Doctor was fiddling with the controls on the main console again.

The decorations from earlier were still up with the strings of lights creating a colorful glow around the central column. Originally, the plan had been to take everything down the next day, but the Doctor started to wonder if maybe it would be nice to leave everything as it was for a few more days.

He finished calculating the coordinates for his next destination and smiled. He had planned a stop at another recreation planet, this one having several active archeological sites which he hoped would pique Turlough’s interest more than the last leisure planet had.

The Doctor double checked his settings one more time before deciding to attend to some other chores for a while. He started to walk out of the console room when he noticed that there was a package wrapped in plain white paper he had not seen before now.

Instantly curious, the Doctor picked the package up and tore the paper off. What he saw inside warmed both of his hearts.

It was another painting by Turlough. More than likely done with the special paint he had given Turlough for Christmas. This one was a picture of the four of them sitting around the table, sharing Christmas dinner. Tegan and Nyssa were laughing while the Doctor saw that he was depicted as holding up a toast with a large grin on his face. Most surprising of all though was the self portrait Turlough had done: sitting at the end of the table, the paper crown on his head and a slight smile on his face.

The Doctor responded with a smile of his own. It was a lovely memento of the evening they had just shared, but even more importantly, he knew that this was a portrait of affection, of gratitude for what had been given.

Of hope for what could come in the future.

_‘Turlough….thank you….’_

The Doctor stared at it for another minute before remembering where he had put the frame he knew he wanted to put this in before hanging it in his room.


	7. Purpose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place somewhere between The Five Doctors and Warriors of the Deep.

“Turlough, the materialization stabilizers are acting up again. And I was wondering if you could help me with some of this re-wiring.”

Turlough nodded, finishing the tying of his tie as he walked into the console room. As far as greetings go, it hadn’t been as blandly polite as “good morning” or even “how are you?”, but he didn’t mind that. As far as he was concerned, the Doctor was paying him a compliment by dispensing with meaningless courtesies. Mainly because the two of them didn’t need to rely on them anymore.

He had just reached the main console when the Doctor sat up from where he was lying on the floor. The Doctor got to his knees and glanced at the nearest dial, his brows furrowing.

“Odd. The stabilizers appear to be working normally again.”          

“Isn’t that what you wanted, Doctor?”

“Well yes, but I would have liked to take credit for that. As it is, they seem to be going in and out of order on their own.”

The Doctor started to lie back down, paused and reached an arm up onto the console, feeling around for a minute before pointing his index finger at another dial.

“Keep an eye on that gauge, will you?” the Doctor said. Then he laid down onto his side and took off a plate covering the mechanisms inside the base of the console.

“What am I looking for?” Turlough asked, positioning himself to get a good view of it.

“Make sure to tell me if it reaches 2.75,” the Doctor replied. “Ah… interesting….”

Turlough smirked, but remained silent. The Doctor often talked about things being “interesting” without elaborating. It had taken a little while, but Turlough soon figured out that it was a sort of game to the Doctor. He’d say “interesting”, whoever was nearby would ask “what’s that?” and then the Doctor got a chance to explain away without imposing.

The smirk on Turlough’s face grew. Sometimes, Turlough played along, other times, he stayed quiet, curious to see what lengths the Doctor would go to if his companions did not respond as he predicted. Today, Turlough was interested in seeing how the Doctor would handle this silence.

It didn’t take long for him to find out.

“Turlough, I hope you don’t mind cold weather too terribly much.”

Turlough frowned. He recognized that tone. That was the tone the Doctor used when he was getting ready to say something he thought Turlough wouldn’t want to hear. And Turlough suspected that it wasn’t the possibility of a chilly destination that the Doctor was worried about.

“As long as the frigid winds don’t peel the skin from my face, I’ll manage,” he replied. “Why?”

“Well Tegan had mentioned being intrigued by the old Frost Fairs they used to hold in England. That was when the Thames would freeze solid and people would hold festivities on the ice. Anyway, I thought we could….”

“Earth again?” Turlough groaned. “Honestly, Doctor, you have all of time and space open to you and yet you keep going back to that wretched planet.”

“Now, Turlough, it’s not all that bad,” the Doctor chided. “Surely, you found some things enjoyable about it while you were living there.”

 _‘Not much,’_ Turlough thought. He considered saying that out loud, but knew it would be easier to try a different tactic.

“Even so, Doctor, that doesn’t mean I want to keep going back there over and over again. Not when there’s so much more out there. Why, I’m sure you could name at least ten other places off the top of your head that you’ve never been to before and have been meaning to visit.”

The Doctor paused, a mess of wires currently laying all around him, while Turlough resisted the urge to smile. _‘Yes of course. Appeal to the Doctor’s curiosity and sense of adventure. That’s a proven method of getting his attention. Why hadn’t I thought of this before?’_

Turlough continued to watch him in between periodic glances at the dial he was supposed to be minding. He tried to guess what could be running through the Doctor’s mind, hoping that his attempt to change up their destinations from Earth would actually work this time.

“You’re absolutely right, Turlough,” the Doctor said, beaming. “And I know just the planet we should go to: Sirian Minor. It’s said to be a lovely planet with a fascinating history. Yes, we definitely should drop by there after we’ve taken Tegan to the Frost Festival.”

Turlough sighed. Failed again. Even if the Doctor had every intention of going to this Sirian Minor after visiting Earth again, he was all too aware that the Doctor was easily distracted. And that the TARDIS was frequently sent off course. Not mention having to deal with all sorts of evil beings who were bent on the Doctor’s destruction.

No, if the Doctor did not go there next, it was more than likely that they’d never go there at all. Turlough was stuck.

“This conduit needs even more work than I thought,” the Doctor mumbled. He slid along the floor so he could look up straight up at Turlough. “Would you mind terribly…?”

“Getting your black toolbox?” Turlough finished for him. “And the blue one too, I suppose?”

“Yes, that would be excellent,” the Doctor said. “Thank you, Turlough.”

Turlough heaved a sigh and went off to fetch the things the Doctor asked for. He wasn’t particularly enthused with having to fetch and carry the Doctor’s instruments so often, but he was also aware that there were worse jobs. Such as kitchen duties after Tegan made dinner.

A minute later, Turlough was back and sat the boxes down next to the Doctor who continued to work away with no acknowledgement of his return. Turlough was tempted to get down on the floor and see what the Doctor was working on, but instead he went back to watching the dial he’d been assigned to previously. It was a far more boring chore, but it was also a lot safer to actually keep an eye on something the Doctor was concerned about lest they end up spinning into a black hole or something equally catastrophic.

For the next few minutes, Turlough monitored the gauge while allowing his mind to drift, trying to think of some complex repair work he had seen on the TARDIS recently so he could walk himself through that rather than think about memories of Trion which had bubbled up too close to his consciousness of late.

As a result, he didn’t even notice it when the Doctor stopped working and had sat up to stare at him.

“Turlough?”

Turlough jumped as he glanced over at the Doctor. “Um, the readings are still only at 2.15, Doctor. They haven’t really….”

“Turlough, if there is something else you’d rather being doing right now…well, you know that you don’t have to stay here, don’t you?”

 Turlough felt a twinge of anxiety. Was the Doctor trying to get him to leave? Had he done something wrong? Was there something else he should have been doing to help with the repairs? Or maybe it went further than that. Had he criticized their destinations too much or argued too often with Tegan?

“I don’t mind,” he said quickly. “I want to stay. Did you want me to give you the readings out loud? Or maybe I could….”

The Doctor drew his legs up and rested his arms onto his knees. “Turlough, when I choose to let someone travel with me, I do tend to request their assistance from time to time. However, it’s not a requirement in order to remain here. You’re here as companions and friends not as workers or subordinates. You do not have to ‘earn’ your position here.”

Somewhat relieved, but still wary, Turlough let out a short breath. “What do you mean?”

The Doctor let out another sigh. “I was talking to Tegan yesterday and she expressed some…concern that you’re operating under the assumption that I’m keeping you around solely to assist with repair work on the TARDIS. Her assumption being based on the fact that you have spent a lot of time working with me on this ongoing project.”

“Wait a moment, she told you that she’s worried that you’re working me too hard?” Turlough said with a growing smirk.

“It wasn’t quite phrased that way, no,” the Doctor said. “It was more of a question of why you’ve neglected to do the dishes for the past week.”

Turlough chuckled. That sounded much more like Tegan. “Because I don’t feel I should have to clean up after one of her noxious dinner experiments. Especially when she’s the only one eating those bizarre casserole dishes she concocts.”

“Now, Turlough, it hasn’t been that terrible. You know perfectly well that it was nearly edible last night. And besides, you haven’t offered to make dinner yet.”

“That’s because I’m not good at it and don’t pretend otherwise,” Turlough said with a shrug. “Look, Doctor, about the rest of it…I’d much rather work on the TARDIS with you than deal with dishes or figuring out how to make a meal we could all comfortably eat. It’s not a really a chore…it’s….”

Turlough sighed and crouched down to sit on the floor opposite of the Doctor. “This ship, the TARDIS…it’s made up of technology that’s far beyond what was on my planet when I left and several times farther than that compared to what I was exposed to at that horrible public school. To be able to work with it and learn about it….”

“Yes, I imagine it is an exciting challenge, isn’t it?” the Doctor said, a wide grin appearing on his face. “Something you hadn’t had for a while.”

Turlough gave a brief smile back. Before he’d been a soldier fighting in a pointless civil war, he’d been an avid student at the leading science academy on Trion. He had had ambitions of constructing a spaceship of his own design and spent much of his leisure time drafting various blueprints of his ideas.  His family had been surprised at his interest and had tried several times to steer him toward political work before letting him be.

After the war was over and he was exiled, Turlough had thought that was the end of any opportunity to study the subjects that truly interested him. At least not on a level that matched his actual knowledge and intellect. Traveling with the Doctor had the unexpected side effect of giving him another chance to learn albeit in a much more unconventional and hands-on way.

From the look on his face, Turlough sensed that the Doctor understood this desire completely. Was it possible that that was part of the reason why the Doctor allowed him to stay? Because he had sensed a kindred spirit?

“Well then, perhaps you’d like to see what I am doing here to fix the fault in the stabilizers,” the Doctor said. “I think you’ll find that there are some practical applications that could be used to allow spaceships to better handle the transition to and from warp speeds.”

“Wait, Doctor. What about the dial you needed me to keep an eye on?”

“Oh that. If it hasn’t gone up to 2.75 by now, it never will. I suspected it would only be a matter of time before you asked about that.”

Turlough opened his mouth to reply, but paused when he suddenly realized that the Doctor had played one of his little games again. He made sure to scowl at the mischievous glint he saw in the Doctor’s eyes, but felt no real annoyance over it. Turlough scooted over beside the Doctor so he could get a better look at what the Doctor was doing.

“Oh and Turlough, you will have to do the dishes tomorrow or Tegan will never let either of us hear the end of it.”

“As if that’s the only thing she can find to hector us about,” Turlough snorted.

“Yes, well, one thing at a time, Turlough,” the Doctor said. “Now hand me that sonic lance, will you?”

Turlough chuckled again as he complied with the Doctor’s request.


End file.
